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samw1se · 21 hours ago

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I was born blind in my left eye. It never got fixed. Many of these points are true in my experience, except I still have an eyeball. Here are some additional fun facts from my realm of experience:

-my elementary school knew I was blind in one eye but did not tell my parents. I started to get a little farsighted in the 4th grade so I went to get readers and the eye doctor told me, a nine year old girl, that my life was forever fucked and I’d never be fully independent, never drive, never go to college, because I was disabled and it was too late to fix it. We got a second opinion. And then a third.

- (you can try to fix my kind of blindness up until about the age of five because the brain is still really elastic and capable of fixing the broken shit. They fix it by putting a patch over your good eye to force your bad eye to see. They tried it when I was nine but it was too late, so I essentially spent a year having my life ruined by being suddenly completely blind all the time and it sucked ass.)

- you make a great marksman and baseball batter once you figure out how your lack of depth perception works. Not a great outfielder though.

- things sometimes just kind of vanish on you. I got a massive concussion as a kid from running into a pole head on. The pole had been there as long as I could remember. I interacted with the pole every day. But one day I was running and the last thing I remember is thinking, hey, where did the pole go? Like the equipment holding it up was still there but the pole just seemed gone. This also happened several times to me when trying to catch pop flies or headbutt soccer balls. They’d just go away.

- people will indeed forget all the time and throw shit at you from the blind side and hit you in the head, or hug you and scare the shit out of you. A boy asked me out once after he hit me with a frisbee on my blind side.

- and then some people will always think of you when they encounter one eyed things. When I was an RA in college, some of my residents were so very pleased to bring me a one-eyed goldfish they’d found in the feeder tank at the pet store 😩 we named him one eyed Willy and he lived for like five years and survived two cross country trips in a car (in a Nalgene bottle both ways)

- I don’t have a traditional lazy eye (my eyeball can see but there is no connection between it and my brain so the message goes unrecieved) so I don’t really have much of a wandering eye, unlike other folks with amblyopia. I can also only cross my good eye, I cannot wink with my good eye without moving my entire face (and I had to learn how to do this by pushing my cheek and forehead muscles together with my hands until I could do it on my own so I look very stupid) and my good eye also tends to have trouble when looking at blue light for too long since it gets all the strain.

-additionally, the only times my eye seems to look lazy is in the occasional picture. I call it my googly eye.

- re writing advice: I took a writing class in college where we spent a lot of time journaling about our own bodies and then writing stories with what we had learned… my wonderful teacher guessed that I was blind in my left eye because of how I described things. I never used left or right when talking about objects being around characters’ bodies, only front and back. She fucked me up with that one.

- I get a lot of bruises on my left arm because I struggle with depth perception when walking around corners/doors on that side

- they gave me glasses as a kid to try to fix it after patching didn’t work (leading to the discovery that I don’t have a traditional lazy eye) and the left side was the biggest and thickest fucking lens you’ve ever seen and the right side was just normal glass no rx. It made the glasses sit crooked on my face so I stopped wearing them.

- they test you for amblyopia during your drivers license test and I cheated both times I’ve had to go take it 🙃 they put a ball on one lens and a box on the other and they ask if the ball is inside or outside the box and I didn’t see no goddamn ball but the man next to me said it was inside so I did too.

- if I hadn’t cheated, I could still get a license, just with a special note on it, which i didn’t know both times I cheated.

- and yes, cannot agree more with being a safe ass driver. People get frustrated because I follow so far behind other cars and give people so much room all the time but I have a clean ass driving record.

- following that, I have a hard time sitting in the front seat when someone else is driving, especially if they are tailgaters because I feel like I am always about to crash. My husband, a notorious tailgater, says I have an invisible break I hit whenever he’s too close to someone.

- my parents made me go to a chiropractor as a kid to see if the reasoning for my blindness was a pinched nerve. It did not work.

- a redditor once told me he would end himself if he were ‘as cursed as’ me because the idea of being blind in one eye was so insanely distasteful to him. I tried explaining to him that it’s literally the only life I’ve ever known and he kept trying to tell me it was disgusting and unnatural and I lived a hideous life. I was like, dude. Go to therapy.

- if you are blind in one eye but still have an eyeball, you have one fun fact for Two Truths and a Lie always directly on hand and no one will ever guess that’s a truth.

- I am especially clumsy, and sometimes when I get up to do something and start knocking shit down, my husband plays the Godzilla theme song in his phone and it always makes me die laughing.

- when my parents found out, they demanded to know why I didn’t tell them, and I had to explain to them that it was literally all I’ve ever known, how did I know it was wrong? I thought everyone could only see one side of their nose.

Sorry this got long. I can’t sleep lol.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

#this was fun and long #it really doesn’t affect me like people seem to think #apart from being a big fucking klutz #people are always like #HOW DO YOU LIVE #idk dude I really didn’t get offered anything else so

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mynicosensesaretingling · 2 days ago

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When the Snow Falls

a Lando Norris x reader story

Request: Can you write me Christmas market date with Lando including first kiss? 🙏🏼Childhood friends to lovers, I always got dragged to karting racing by my dad and that's how we know each other.

Warnings: none , written in my notes app

Note: I guess I am officially kicking off the christmas season with this one. It’s my first time writing for Lando but I most certainly hope you enjoy it <3

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The year was slowly but surely coming to an end, with Christmas just around the corner you found yourself on your way to your first Christmas market visit of the season. For as long as you could remember, Christmas markets had always been your favorite part of the holidays, and this year, it felt even more special—because you were going with Lando.

You’d known Lando Norris practically forever. Your dad had dragged you along to karting races when you were both kids, and you’d quickly bonded over the long hours at the track. Back then, you didn’t care much for racing, but you did like hanging out with him. Already as a child, Lando had managed to make everything fun—whether he was sneaking you snacks from the paddock or teasing you about how bored you looked while your dad obsessively watched the races.

Even years later, when Lando’s career took off and he became a Formula 1 driver, things between you didn’t change. Sure, he got more famous, busier, and a lot harder to keep up with, but whenever you saw him, it was like nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing.

Lately, things had been… different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something between you had shifted. There were moments now where he looked at you just a little too long, where his jokes seemed to hold a new kind of meaning or where his hand lingered on your shoulder, sending chills up your spine. You’d always been close, but lately, you found yourself thinking about him in a way that friends shouldn’t—like the way his smile would make your heart swell with joy or how the sound of his voice made your chest tighten just a little.

And now here you were, approaching the Christmas market bundled up in your favourite scarf and a thick coat, with snow lightly falling around you. Letting your eyes wander over the scene in front of you, you could easily tell that the market was packed, the sound of music was mixing with the lively chatter of the people, various colourful lights were twinkling overhead and the winter breeze carried the smell of seasonal treats and mulled wine. The whole place looked like something out of a Christmas movie.

You spotted Lando waiting for you near the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, his breath fogging in the cold air and snow flakes adorning his wild curls. When his searching gaze found you, his face lit up with a grin that sent warmth all the way to your toes—despite the freezing weather.

“About time!” Lando called out with a teasing smile. “I was starting to think you ditched me for someone more fun.”

“Like who?” you shot back, chuckling as you walked up to him. “I’m only here for the free hot chocolate.”

“Harsh,” he said with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “But understandable.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. That was the thing about Lando—he made everything easy. With him, you didn’t have to try too hard to be funny or smart or interesting. He just got you. Always had.

Lando bumped his shoulder lightly against yours, a playful spark in his eyes. “Come on then, let's see what else we can find to complain about.” he teased. But his words held a warmth that wrapped around you like the winter chill never could. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the market—it was his way of reminding you how comfortable everything felt when it was the two of you.

As you linked arms and wandered into the market, the festive lights twinkling overhead, you felt that familiar feeling of comfort settle over you, the kind that only ever seemed to come when you were with Lando. Despite everything—the years, the fame, the distance—it still felt like it was just the two of you against the world, like it had always been.

“So,” Lando said as you passed a stall selling Christmas ornaments, his breath visible in the cold air. “You still remember how much you hated coming to the karting track back in the day?”

You laughed, gently shaking your head at the unexpected throwback. “I didn’t *hate* it. I just wasn’t obsessed with it like you were.”

“Liar,” Lando teased, nudging you playfully. “You looked absolutely miserable every time I saw you.”

“Yeah, because my dad was way more invested than I was,” you shot back with a grin. “But you made it bearable. I could always count on you offering me an escape from the racing madness.”

He smiled softly at that, and for a second, the teasing glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by something else—something that made your heart skip a beat. “Well, you were mine too, you know. It wasn’t all about the karting.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, the bustling market seemed to fade around you. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Lando pointed toward a stall up ahead. “Come on, let’s get you that hot chocolate you came here for in the first place.”

You followed him through the crowd, the energy of the market buzzing around you, but your thoughts kept circling back to that look in his eyes. There had been something different about it—something that made the air feel just a little heavier between you.

Whilst you had been lost in thought Lando had bought two steaming cups of hot chocolate and you only found yourself snapping back to reality when the driver carefully handed one to you. “Here. This should keep you from freezing to death.”

You took it gratefully, cradling it between both of your hands, a satisfied hum leaving your lips when you felt the warmth seeping through your skin . “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Lando said with a cocky grin, but there was a softness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

As the two of you wandered deeper into the market, sipping your hot chocolate and chatting about everything and nothing, the playful banter flowed naturally. It always did with Lando. But even between all the sarcastic comments and dry jokes you could feel something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been building for months.

The festive stalls blurred together as you walked, but then something caught your eye. You stopped in front of a small wooden stall, the soft green of mistletoe sprigs hanging from the awning, each tied with delicate red ribbons. You stared at them for a moment longer than you meant to, your stomach doing a little flip as the realization of what mistletoe symbolized hit you.

“You know what they say about mistletoe…” Lando said, his voice suddenly becoming a little quieter, a little softer. He was standing close—closer than usual—and when you looked up, his eyes were fixed on you, not the mistletoe.

Your breath caught, heart racing as you noticed the change in the air between you. Trying to steady yourself, you gave a small smile and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what exactly do they say?”

He took a moment to reply, his gaze still locked on yours. “Apparently, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The noise of the market, the lights, the people—it all faded into the background. It was just you and Lando, standing there in the middle of the market, the snow falling softly around you.

Your senses where overwhelmed with how close he was now—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, could see the soft, nervous flicker in his eyes. For a split second, you thought about backing away, about brushing it off with a joke like you always did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped forward, almost closing the space between you. “I guess we should follow tradition then,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the market.

Lando’s eyes flickered to your lips, the desire in his eyes as clear as day before all of sudden his lips found yours. It was soft and tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer as the years of secret longing were finally revealed in his every touch.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, Lando was smiling that familiar smile, the one that never failed to make your heart race. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” he admitted, his voice low and a little nervous.

You smiled back, your heart still hammering loudly in your chest. “Me too.”

Lando let out a breath of relief, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d never work up the nerve.”

His confession coaxed a soft laugh from your lips, your hands resting on his chest. “You, nervous? That’s a first.”

“Only with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper and eyes holding his heart. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before readjusting and pulling you into a warm embrace. “I guess we’re not just childhood friends anymore, huh?”

“Guess not,” you whispered back, not trusting your voice as a feeling of warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate or the twinkling lights above.

And as the snow continued to fall gently around you, you remained in Lando’s embrace, your head resting against his chest as you found comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Your eyes followed the sparkling snowflakes and the world around you seemed to slow. With his arms wrapped securely around you, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, like all the chaos and uncertainty that had been swirling in your life had finally come to a halt. You couldn’t help but contently hum as you felt like everything was finally falling into place. The way you fit against him, the warmth you shared despite the cold, and the quiet peace between you told you everything you needed to know.

#f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 drivers #f1 grid #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris

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sh1-n0bu · 2 days ago

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i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

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greengoblinswifey · 1 day ago

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Symbol of Love— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based off sofia and rafe’s cute moment in s4 ep 9 so slight spoilers. rafe is on mission to catch groff and he gives you something to treasure before he leaves.

warnings— spoilers, fluff, mentions of death.

a/n— saw the scene and immediately decided to write this, my heart is melting omg ugh that should be me and him. these new batch of episodes have been such a roller coaster, can’t wait to finish and see how everything plays out <3

Rafe’s hands were tense as walked around the sand, jaw tight as he tried to process what he’d just learned. Chandler Groff had stolen his money, and he boated off the island. You leaned against the tree, eyes wide as you tried to absorb the news. Hollis’ death had hit you harder than you let on, and whispers were circulating that JJ Maybank might have been involved. Nothing felt certain anymore, but what you did know was that Rafe had always been the one constant—until now.

“Okay, but listen,” Rafe said, his voice sharp and urgent. “Unless I catch up with Groff now, that money is long gone.”

“Where is he, Rafe?” you asked, your heart pounding. You didn’t want him to go, especially not alone, but you knew you couldn’t stop him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, his gaze fixed somewhere past you. “I’ll track him down. I’ll get it all back.” There was a steely resolve in his voice, a familiar determination that reminded you of just how far he would go to keep what was his.

But before he could take off, he turned to you, his eyes softening just and took a deep breath. “I want to say something first.”

You opened your mouth, the confession about Hollis and everything that happened burning on your tongue. “Rafe, I- I need to tell you something too.”

Before you could finish, he startled you by dropping to one knee, pulling out a beautiful ring from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly you felt like the world was spinning.

He held it up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “It was my mom’s,” he said softly, his voice breaking just slightly. “Been in my family forever. I know it’s some kook bullshit, but I just- I wanted you to have it before I left. So you’d know this, us- we’re real.”

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I- I did something. It’s about Hollis. There’s more I didn’t tell you—”

He cut you off, shaking his head and cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “Don’t. There’s things about me you don’t know. And trust me, they’re way worse than anything you could say. I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care to know.” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed intense. “I want you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You could barely breathe, tears leaving your eyes and he slipped the ring on your finger, his eyes pleading.

You were crying now, overwhelmed by the depth of his acceptance. You could feel his hands tremble as he slid the ring onto your finger. “Say yes,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s no more pogue bullshit, okay? No more of that. I want you to quit that job and move in with me.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a promise, and you nodded, barely able to find your voice. “Yes, Rafe.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands cradling your face as if you were something fragile he had to hold onto. You kissed him back, fingers curling into his jacket, your tears mixing with his warmth.

When you pulled away, he pressed a key into your palm, closing your fingers over it. “It’s to the house. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Stay there for me, okay? At my—no, our place.”

He brushed a kiss across your forehead, and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And with one last look, he turned, walking toward his boat as you watched him go.

The salty breeze whipped around you, and you looked down at the ring, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. It was beautiful and strange, the symbol of a life you were about to share with him, a life you’d always dreamed of. You traced the ring with your thumb, marveling at its age, its history, a part of him that would stay with you even as he left.

Tears blurred your vision as he boarded the boat, but you stood there, rooted, until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon, clutching the key and the promise he’d left behind.

As you watched Rafe disappear over the horizon, a wave of fear washed over you, heavier than the ocean air around you. You knew how dangerous Groff could be, how far he was willing to go to keep what he’d stolen. And now, Rafe was chasing him down. Your heart twisted, the thought of something happening to him tugging at every corner of your mind. But then you shook yourself, forcing the doubt back. Rafe was tough, stronger than anyone you knew. He could handle himself. He’d be okay.

He’d come back.

You took a deep breath, letting the thought settle over you like a warm blanket. He’d come back, and when he did, you’d spend the rest of your lives together. There would be reward, there would be sunshine after the storm. Your love, this wild, all-consuming love, could survive anything. It had to. Everything was going to be okay.

You glanced down at the ring he’d placed on your finger, feeling its weight, its history pressing against your skin like a quiet promise. Your fingers tightened around the key in your other hand, holding onto it as if it could anchor you to this moment, to him. This key was a piece of him, a piece of your future together, the home you’d share, the life you’d build once he returned.

With one last look out at the horizon, you whispered a silent promise of your own. Then you turned back holding the ring and the key close to your heart, holding onto the hope that soon, he’d be back in your arms.

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thelindenpapers · 2 days ago

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"who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?"

It's often something you learn when you're in an abusive or oppressive situation.

Especially long-term.

And especially if those long-term situations occur multiple times throughout life.

I grew up in an extremely racist/misogynist community.

They learned that they couldn't bully or intimidate me ...but they would pick on anyone who tried to defend me.

And that later expanded into them shunning or bullying anyone who I let on that I liked, or even worse, was crushing on.

I grew up with an abusive, fascist father.

He killed our dog. Why? Because it kept angrily and loudly barking every time he was trying to hurt Mom and me.

More than that: in my childhood community, anyone I tried to talk to would either ignore me like I was a ghost, or, shout slurs and death threats in my face. I'm talking early on in life: Before kindergarten, Kindergarten to at LEAST thru 3rd grade.

So:

You learn that anyone you like gets punished for the grevious faux pas of being liked by you.

You learn that anyone who tries to help you, gets hurt or even killed.

You learn that almost nobody comes to help when you cry for help.

You learn that even trying to talk or say 'Hi' to people, results in them suddenly appearing harmed or troubled or annoyed or angry, somehow.

...And why wouldn't I be silent?

As a feral kid, no one was going to listen to me anyway, no one was going to care how I felt about anything or about how anything was affecting me.

And if I did tell?

People frequently took the abuser's side.

Just as the cops did, the very first time I was finally old enough to threaten dad right back!

Don't even get me started on my marriage.

How long are you supposed to keep on telling a person, 'Hey, these are my needs, and I need your help to get something done about it please.

Hey, I should probably see a doctor, why aren't you letting me have access?

Hey, we really need to talk about our relationship. I don't know why you don't want to spend bonding time together.

Why are you making it so difficult for me to try to get a job or an education?

Why are you sabotaging my writing efforts?

Why do you get so upset at my physical activities?

What is with the panic when you see I'm trying to advance my tech skills?

Why does it anger you so much when I try to be proactive and vigilant in making us a comfortable and clean and helpful home?'.....

He actually complained to me:

"Why can't you just LIE?"

About being happy.

About being well.

So yeah.

Why would I want to ask his (or his parents) help in anything. I can't trust them at all.

Why would I allow someone to help if it might get them hurt or killed in the attempt?

Why would I bother to let anyone know? When, after SO many years of being stuck in a deep pit of a life, to help me would probably cause WAY more stress and take WAY more effort and resources, than any one person could possibly offer or endure?

Why would I do that?

When someone might decide to try and help, start the process -- decide partway through that it's all too much, and abandon the process: leaving me in a position that is less safe than where I started?

( Hell, sometimes that is an on-purpose thing. When a person feels bad, and knows they can't or don't want to help, but they'll make a gesture to make themselves feel good, not caring whether what they try to do is actually helpful or effective. )

And why would I tell people exactly what I'm going through, when so many around me would instead:

Victim-blame me.

Call me a liar.

Assume I was crazy.

Nod sympathetically and then use it as a way for them to feel much better about how they're doing in their own lives.

Say it's too much, say it's not so bad, or say others have it way worse.

Enjoy my explanation and my existence as a form of entertainment like I'm their personal IRL soap opera.

Or, use the information that I've given them about me as a way to hurt me further -- since they now seem to think that I'm some easy target, or that, in some twisted sense, abusing me further is somehow less morally bad, and more acceptable: because I've been abused before.....

So in their eyes, I'm 'Already soiled'?

'Already hopeless'?

'Already nothing'?

It's nothing to do with moral superiority.

It's survival.

...And I'm not saying it's right.

In an ideal situation, absolutely: being helped at any point in my life would have been great!

A healthier social structure would allow for this.

In a world where care was offered by the Community rather than by the individual, I wouldn't worry about speaking, just to find myself in worse trouble than when the 'helping' process started...

But this ain't a healthy world yet.

^^;

You asked why people feel that way.

So I've told you all the reasons why they might.

YMMV. 🤷🏾‍♀️

who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?

#Networks of Care #tw animal death #tw abuse #tw neglect #anti capitalism #humanity #writing #asking for help #why people are like this #No seriously establish networks of care in your communities. People need them now more than ever #Suffering is NOT morally superior #Do not demonize pleasure help and ease #Stop canonizing pain stress and endurance #deconstruction

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starkeygirls · 7 hours ago

Text

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 1

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: really bad at these!

wc: 2.5k

warning: none! i haven't written in a while, this is a rewrite of a story that i started in 2020, so please bare with me as i get back in the groove of writing.

a/n: guess who's back, back again. determined to finish this series. rafe and sofia in s4 really inspired me to get back into this fic, hope you all like it ◡̈ pls reblog/comment/etc.. would love to hear your thoughts ◡̈

______________________________________________________________

Sometimes you really fit into Figure 8. Sometimes you all did. Like when John B was off with Sarah and he was wearing the clothes that she had bought him to go out golfing or go to brunch at the yacht club. Or when Kie was dragged to a kook event by her parents at the country club. Pope wore his suit when he had different scholarship and college interviews- and he really gave the kook boys a run for their money with how good he looked in his steamed suit. JJ was the least likely to really look like he would ever fit in on Figure 8, and that was because he never wanted to. He reserved his ‘money suit’, as he called it, for when he had to work as a busboy, and occasionally picked up other gigs. You, however, were fitting in more often than you would have liked.

You tucked your white cashmere sweater into your long, green pleated skirt. Letting out a small huff as you sprayed your perfectly curled hair one more time. Throwing your purse over your shoulder, you trudged down your hallway, your sneakers cost more than $400. You could still remember how your jaw dropped when you saw the pricetag, and apparently the kooks ate these shoes up. They needed them in every color, every new style that came out. It was madness, if you were being honest. It was like they were just giving away money.

That’s what it seemed like, at least. You had been working at a retail store in the main strip of Figure 8 for over a year now. It was the only way you could afford the clothes you were wearing. You got a steep discount off the price, and you knew how to shop sales better than anyone.

Your kook masquerade was always squished the moment you walked out to your car. The old beat up Honda that was always parked out front was nothing like what a kook would drive. It was too old. A 2005? The kooks didn’t know what anything from that year was- maybe only their participation trophies from little league that had the year engraved, that was about it.

Unlocking the car, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling up your seatbelt.

“Please start, Hilda..” You mumbled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as your hand turned the key in the ignition. She did, as usual- but you would never forget the time that she broke down. You cried for the ten minutes it took John B and JJ to rescue you. They were like your own little mechanics. Pope had called you in the car for the ten minutes while you sobbed and tried to calm you down- it didn’t work. Nothing worked until you saw your car fixed. You still owed them for saving your ass that day, regardless of how many times they assured you it was really nothing.

Crossing over the bridge from The Cut to Figure 8, you sighed: traffic. You knew by now the traffic was always bad as you headed into the main strip of town. It was the most popular place. Coffee shops, restaurants, stores.. Who wouldn’t be there if they had the money and time? Yeah, the coffee was overpriced and no one knew how to drive in their expensive cars, but it was still nice. Nicer than The Cut where people revved their engines when you scurried across the street.

–

It took you a half hour to finally pull into the parking lot behind your store. Saturdays were always the worst traffic wise, but boy, was it a good sales day. Checking the time, you bit your lip as you contemplated running to the cafe a few shops down to get a coffee. Technically you had time- you were always early. You had a fear of being late if you were being honest. You knew it looked bad, and it wasn’t hard for you to just leave a little early for wherever you were going. It took you two minutes to walk to the cafe, and you would give yourself ten minutes to be in the cafe, another two minutes to walk back, and you had twenty minutes until you had to clock in. What if the cafe was busy? What if it took you fifteen minutes in there?

You slammed the car door and walked towards the Cove Cafe. The bell dinged as you walked in, a smile pressed to your lips as you pushed your sunglasses to your head. It wasn’t busy. What a relief. You smiled at the barista as you walked up to the counter. You and Gabriella had become good friends from your constant stops to the overpriced coffee shop.

“The usual?” She asked with a grin, scribbling onto the cup as you nodded your head. You still had ten minutes to get back to the shop before you had to clock in. You smiled and waved back to Gabriella as you left the shop, sipping on the drink that had become a staple to your routine.

–

This Saturday was not a good day for sales. The weather must’ve been too nice, or everyone had gone to the mainland. The traffic you had fought through died down, and the small shop was deserted. Main Street in general was deserted. You and your co-worker, Abigail were basically staring at each other for four hours. It was painful at this point. You both had resorted to hiding off to the side hall to watch Netflix shows, peering your heads out when you heard the door open.

Most of the time it was one or two people wandering in- usually tourons who just looked around and pulled you away from the show. It was your turn to walk out there when the door dinged, watching as two people walked in. Your eyes squinted as you looked to the security camera before heading out from behind the curtain.

You tried to hide your surprise- and disgust- as your eyes glanced over to see Topper Thorton and Rafe Cameron in the small store. What did they want? Were they making rounds because Sarah was complaining about something John B had said? You knew it wasn’t a good idea John B was hanging around her. Were they threatening your group?

Was it too late to shove Abigail out here? Was it too late to lock the doors and pretend you never opened? Were you allowed to not greet them? Spit in their faces?

“Do you have this in a large?” Rafe’s question knocked you from your thoughts, blinking a few times before you furrowed your brows.

“Let me go check for you.” You smiled at the two boys before heading behind the curtain where Abigail was. “How did I get so unlucky to have to deal with Topper and Rafe? How come you got a Hollywood directors cousin and I get two assholes who aren’t going to spend any money?” A groan escaped your lips before you brought yourself down the stairs to the stockroom.

–

“So you’re going to take the three shirts, the sweater and the two pants and then we’re going to order you the polo in the salmon color, and the sneakers, right?” You ran by him one more time.

“Yeah, and ship it to the store if you can.” Rafe nodded, tapping his American Express Platinum card against the wooden counter. You nodded, typing away on the ipad register. It was a relief to finally be getting them out of the store, though they were a lot less of a pain then you had originally thought they would be. In fact, they were really respectful a complete 180 from what you were used to experiencing. They had hung back up everything they had tried on, and made sure to get a full glance of everything they could want in a different size or color before making you run to the stockroom once they were aware it was in a basement.

The only awkward part of the whole interaction was when you had absentmindedly walked back to the fitting rooms and saw Rafe shirtless as he spoke to Topper about the shirt he had on.

“Pants fit well.” You awkwardly smiled, diverting your eyes from Rafe’s toned chest. You didn’t hate having them in the store, and he was about to drop a lot of money which was only going to be more money in your pocket.

“You’re all set. Everything should be here by Wednesday the latest. I’ll give you a call when they get here.” You smiled, watching him tap the heavy card against the card reader. His blue eyes glanced up to meet your own eyes.

“Could you text me, actually? The number on file is my cell.” Your eyes glanced to Topper as he smirked, eyes glancing your way. To be honest, you were surprised. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to text customers for outreach or order updates- but it was the look Rafe was giving you, it was the smirk Topper had plastered to his face, it was the way Rafe was leaning on the counter.

–

“And then as if spending an hour with them wasn’t bad enough, he asked me to text him when his order got to the store!” You were pacing in the living room of the chateau. You had driven straight there after work, it was a bit of a usual for all of you. After work on Saturdays, everyone would meet at the chateau and unwind, usually a beer or two, and pizza.

“Why are you dressed like you’re from the 60’s?” JJ asked, as if he hadn’t been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes you had been ranting.

“That isn’t the point, idiot.” Kiara chimed in, shaking her head at JJ’s comment. “Love the sweater by the way.” She smiled.

“Dude, it retails for like three hundred, I almost threw up when a woman asked me where it was in the store the last time I wore it and then she bought it in the three colors we have.” You smiled back, finally plopping onto the couch next to JJ. His eyes were wide as he looked to your sweater, before petting it.

“Fuck, it’s soft.”

“It’s cashmere and get your grubby hands off of it. You probably have oil or beer on your hands, and it’s dry clean only.” Your hand smacked at his.

“So when’s your first date with Rafe.” JJ teased, a groan leaving your lips as your head fell back.

“Where the hell did a date even come into this? If he gets my number that’s just another way to threaten us.”

“I wish John B and Sarah were here to hear all this.. Sarah would lose it.” Kie laughed. “But, we would probably get to the bottom of it. She would just text him and see what was up. Either we’re overthinking it, or we’re perfectly on track for whatever his twisted mind is thinking.”

“So are you going to wear cashmere on your date with him? Do you think he’ll pay?” JJ continued, a grin planted to his face. He wasn’t going to let it die down, which you should have expected. Jeez, where was Pope, John B and Sarah when you needed them?

–

Your fingers hovered over your phone after you had texted Rafe, the chat bubble signaling he was responding - and fast. There was no need to be nervous about whatever he was saying, it was your job, after all. Texting him as he requested for the order he placed - you hadn’t done anything wrong or out of the ordinary.

You jumped a bit feeling your phone vibrate in your hand, eyes scanning the text saying he would probably show up right before you closed because he was busy. Your lips pulled into a tight line, preparing yourself to have to stay past close. You hearted the message without even thinking, all sense of professionalism threw itself out the window. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, too late now to undo what had been done.

–

The store was in nearly perfect condition, you had told Abigail to head home, that you would wait out Rafe’s arrival on your own, assuring her he would surely only be about 5-10 minutes. You finger spaced the racks twice, re-folded your tables and even dusted off the mannequins as you waited for his arrival. It was now thirty minutes past close, the doors had been locked, your fingers tapped along the desk as a sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling. Pulling your phone out of pocket, your fingers fired off a message to Rafe.

hey! i’ve gotta close up, we’re open from 9-7 tomorrow, just tell the associate you’re picking up :)

Grabbing your things from the back, your keys twirled around your fingers, jumping as a figure was looking into the glass doors of the store. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes looked to Rafe’s, a smile pressed to his lips as he caught the panic course through your body. A small debate ran through your brain, should you even let him have his things? He should and could wait until the following day. Teach him a lesson on being punctual.

His hand knocked on the door, smile still pressed tight to his lips. It was almost cocky, like he knew that you would let him in. Before even making a conscious decision, your feet were carrying you to the door and unlocking it.

“Maybe we should add a watch to your order, seems like you could use it.” Your tone was a bit harsher than you intended, but at this point, he was wasting your time. Holding the door open, you quickly locked it after he entered.

“I’m only thirty minutes late.”

“You knew when we closed, you’re abusing my kindness.”

“Is that what you call the attitude?” Your eyes were glaring at this point, feet carrying you quickly to the back where Rafe’s items were packaged neatly, a bow around the handle of the bag and all. Grabbing it, you gasped yet again as he had been closer to the curtain to the back than anticipated. A chuckle escaping his lips. “You look like a deer in headlights.”

“Can you just take your things and go? I’ve spent enough time in this store.” A huff escaped your lips as you shoved the bag to Rafe, already walking towards the front door to escort him out. “And don’t worry, I’ll send you watches during my next shift so you can work on being on time.”

“So you want to see me again?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, smirk pressing to his lips. He clearly was in no rush to leave, or leave without frustrating you any bit he could.

“Right now I would love nothing more than to watch you leave, Rafe.” Unlocking the door, and opening it you motion for him to leave, your patience growing thin as he took his time walking from the store. “Thanks for shopping with us today.” You mutter before closing the door behind him and locking it.

��

Scrolling through your phone, a text pulled your brows together.

so, how’d i look walking away?

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amourtoken · 17 hours ago

Note

yes PLEASE write about quinn knocking you up and also please never stop writing smut i feel FERAL

I got a couple asks about this so let me roll them all into one here yall are horny unhinged individuals together now

Quinn is unfortunately insanely susceptible to baby fever. He can't help himself, the thought of having a little extended family to provide for is sweet enough on its own but getting there is what he's really been focused on recently. He cannot clear his mind of the idea at all and it's starting to effect every aspect of his life. His thoughts are always frenzied and his brain fuzzy, he can barely focus on the ice and you constantly catch him zoned out and have to draw his attention back to you. What's he even thinking about?

This all started after he saw you interacting with some kids at a charity event. He didn't think it'd be a personal attack on his psyche to see you leaning down to their level so they felt more included while you chatted about your days or whatever random thoughts of theirs that sprung to mind. They all seemed so happy in your presence and you've always just naturally been great with kids so it's no surprise to you, but Quinn instantaneously fell victim to the infectious thought process of parenthood.

all he's thought about for days is how pretty you'd look pregnant and how good of a parent you'd be. Would your kids have your smile? Your eyes? Hopefully they had your sweet personality at the very least. You two could be the overly supportive cheesy hockey parents when your kid got a little older too, if they took after him and wanted to play. Quinn would fall down these hour long rabbit holes in his own mind of what your future would look like with an addition to the family and it was becoming more and more of a necessity every day.

Eventually it gets to a point where he can't fucking contain it anymore and he lets the idea slip while he's got you pinned to the mattress below him.

Quinn's fingers are holding your hips tight enough to bruise while he's buried inside you, panting praises and explicit compliments against your neck in rhythm with his thrusts. He can't get the image of you all pretty and pregnant out of his brain at all, the only thing keeping him from it is a thin latex and a question really. He didn't wanna ruin the moment but it was out of his control at this point, the need overtaking critical thinking skills.

"Fuck- please let me put a baby in you- shit- p-please- c-can't stop thinkin' about it- fuck i need it so bad...'m sorry-"

His voice sounded so broken, moans and whines cutting through his words against his will. You had no idea he felt this way and fuck you wish he'd said something sooner because you've been going through the same misery he has. For the same reason. The same exact event that permeated his peace with the idea of kids with you was the one that had you dizzy thinking about him being a dad. Safe to say your communication skills were lacking during this cause both of you were afraid to ask but now that you're on the same page? You're in for it.

You respond enthusiastically, nodding quickly and immediately pleading for him to do just that. Quinn's chest fluttered at your whined pleas and as much as it pained him to pull out in the moment it was definitely worth it to sink back into you raw. He wanted this to last forever but the way you felt so fucking warm and wet around him was ultimately his undoing, much to his own protest. He didn't wanna finish without dragging you along either, his thrusts fell out of rhythm as he snaked a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, trying his best to take you with him.

"Shit- you're gonna be so pretty- fuck- god I'm so fuckin' lucky-"

Your nails sunk into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, legs shaking as you tipped off the edge of your orgasm with a whine of his name. He almost immediately followed you, hands gripping behind your knees to fold you in half under him, allowing him to sink deeper than before. Quinn's vision blurred with black spots and his voice pitched up into whiney pleas as he filled you up, finally getting what's plagued him for fucking weeks now. Doesn't matter if this was the time that did it or not, he was dead set on fucking you full of his cum over and over and over until you got the results you both wanted (and then some extra for good measure ofc)

#Ask #Quinn #Quinn hughes smut #Quinn hughes

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sarahreesbrennan · 1 day ago

Note

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

#publishing #writing tips #villains #cancer #epic fantasy #isekai #Long live evil #alice in wonderland #labyrinth #the hunger games #the changeover #chilling adventures of sabrina

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motherismotheringggg · 1 day ago

Text

friends who know

summary: you and cooper are best frjends but when he comes to your apartment after a night out and failed date for you, he tells you how he really feels

type: fem! reader x cooper koch

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (f! receiving)

author’s note: there’s a shortage of cooper fic and we MUST fix this; i think i only saw this once but in case there’s a larger concern about writing cooper in hetero sex scenarios i want to say 1.) all my fics are based in alternate universes 2.) its not that deep 3.) with cooper i try to keep his sexuality open in all my fics

word count: 4482

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

The hum of the city outside was barely audible through the thick walls of the apartment, the occasional honk of a car or distant voice muffled by the calm inside. Cooper’s steps wobbled slightly as he made his way to the door, the alcohol coursing through his veins making everything feel heavier than usual.

Each movement seemed slower than usual as if the world was spinning just a little too fast for him to keep up. He had intended to just let himself into his friend’s apartment. Since she lived closer to the bar he was coming from and she should still be on her date, they had planned for Cooper to crash at her place if he didn’t make it home. But as he fumbled with his key in the lock, his vision blurry from the alcohol, he froze when the door swung open on its own.

“It took you ridiculously long to get that, I had to help you,” you teased with a playful smirk, your voice light as you opened the door to reveal your tipsy friend. Your makeup and hair were still done from the night out. You’d swapped your date outfit for something more comfortable—a big t-shirt that fell loosely over your frame and a pair of shorts, casual and relaxed for the evening ahead.

Cooper flashed a toothy grin, his eyes squinting slightly, the kind of grin that makes his whole face light up and his mouth stretch wide. His voice was heavy with tipsiness, slurring just a little, and his gaze was unfocused like he couldn’t quite center on anything. “Oh shit, I did not expect you to be home!” he chuckled, his voice warm but thick with the alcohol.

You raised an eyebrow, looking him over with amusement. "Well I do live here," you teased, stepping aside to let him stumble past. “I texted you like 30 minutes ago saying I got back early.” You could tell by the way he was swaying slightly that he had more than just a few drinks, but despite his drunken state, something was endearing about the way he carried himself—like his carefree nature was still intact even in this slightly hazy moment.

"I can’t even tell you if I have my phone with me," he scoffed, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. But despite his wobbly state, there was a lightness to his words, a mischief in his tone that was unmistakable. His lips curled into a smile, one that reached his eyes most charmingly. As he tried to steady himself, you took a step back, allowing him into the apartment.

He made his way to the couch and crashed into the cushions with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the soft fabric like he was just too tired to fight it. There was something about him in this state, so relaxed, that made him look even more appealing, his usual confident energy replaced with a kind of laid-back vulnerability.

His messy, tousled curls fell in loose strands over his forehead, a few bits caught in his eyes as he leaned his head back. He let out a content sigh, eyes half-lidded but still looking at you with that lazy smile. His long arms rested casually on either side, his broad forearms stretching across the armrests as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The muscles in his arms were defined even through the fabric of his shirt, and the way he moved—slow, relaxed—gave off an air of lazy strength like he could melt into any space and make it his own. He was a man who commanded attention without even trying, and now, sprawled on your couch, he looked like he was taking up all the space in the room without even realizing it.

You came from the kitchen with a bottle of water in hand, twisting off the cap as you walked into the living room. Your phone was still clutched between your fingers, but you focused on Cooper first. "I ordered us a pizza, but it’s gonna take a while," you said, offering him the bottle.

You ran your hands through his hair in a comforting manner as he took the bottle. He held your hand steady on his head while taking deep gulps of water that brought him back to life. He opened his eyes and his gaze met yours. You always felt very protective of him but even in this moment, where you were taking care of him, you felt safe.

“No worries, I’ll just raid your kitchen if I need to,” Cooper joked with a grin that was goofy but still disarmingly charming. His eyes tracked your every move from behind the couch and him to plopping down next to him on the couch, a slight tilt to his head like he was trying to piece together the picture of the night. His eyes focused on you, still too tipsy to hide his curiosity, though it was endearing more than anything.

There was a comfortable silence in your apartment. You scrolled on your phone and Cooper continued to drink his water. His gulps being the only noise in the room aside from the occasional notification vibration from your phone. Cooper began to sit up and look in your direction, his eyes narrowed slightly, "What happened to your hot date?" he asked, his voice low and heavy with the alcohol, but the hint of genuine interest was there.

You scoffed, leaning back into the couch with a small huff of frustration. "Hot date?" you repeated, rolling your eyes as you took a drink of your own water you had on the coffee table "It was a hot fucking mess.”

Cooper’s eyes widened a bit as he blinked, clearly processing what you’d said. "A mess? Alright, spill!" He tapped his legs, gesturing for you to put your feet up on him. His words came out a little slower, laced with curiosity and softened by the slur of someone who’d had a few drinks. But even through the haze, there was a genuine concern behind his playful tone, a real interest in knowing exactly what had gone wrong.

You shook your head, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement at how easily your frustration was slipping into your words. "God, he was so obnoxious," you began, putting your drink down to properly explain, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. "Loud, pushy, and worse of all…he was terrible at eating me out”

Cooper leaned in even more curious than before, you let out a sharp exhale, the frustration of the night slipping out with every word. "We went to his place and he went down on me and it was so …bad. He had no direction, no idea where my clit was and he had the nerve to keep asking me if I was close to finishing.”

Cooper let out a laugh, one that he immediately regretted, but it bubbled up before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it. “I just can’t believe he was that bad,” he said, his voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and amusement. He shook his head as if trying to wrap his mind around it, still finding it hard to believe. “Honestly, it sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

Then, with a slightly lopsided grin, his tone lightened, and he added, “You deserve a guy who's gonna treat you and eat you.” He said it with a chuckle, but as the words left his mouth, a flicker of something serious flashed in his eyes, like he hadn’t quite meant to let that much slip out. He was drunk enough for it to come out in jest, but his gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than it should have, his protective nature subtly making the comment feel heavier than the casual joke implied.

The mix of joking and sincerity hung in the air, and for a moment, the playful edge of his voice didn’t quite match the intensity in his eyes. He was too far gone to realize how true that statement felt, how much he actually meant it.

He opened his arms, gesturing for you to lean in, and you didn’t hesitate. Letting yourself settle against him, you felt his warmth and the soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat. The scent of his cologne, mixed with a hint of the whiskey he’d had earlier, wrapped around you, making the room feel a little smaller, a little more intimate.

Cooper’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, and he let out a low chuckle. “We’ve shared so many hookup stories over the year and I remember a lot. His head dipped closer to yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I remember every little thing you said you like,” he admitted, his tone soft but sure. “I mean… I bet I could get you off, no problem.” The confidence in his voice was clear, even if he was too far gone to fully realize the weight of what he was saying.

He shifted slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard, his usual playful edge softened by something deeper. His fingers brushed lightly over your arm, tracing slow, absentminded patterns as if testing the waters, letting you feel his warmth through the gentle, almost reverent touch. “I’d want to,” he murmured as if the thought had just come to him. “I’d want to do it right… make you feel good.”

His words lingered, heavy with intention, his face hovering close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about what it would be like to hook up with Cooper. He’d always had this effortless charm, and he loved to talk up his own skills, claiming he could leave anyone breathless. He had a way of paying attention, too—he’d often talk about how he could read the other person’s body, letting them lead while he responded, always focused on making them feel good. The idea had crossed your mind more than once, but you’d always brushed it off. Cooper was a friend, and here he was, drunk and vulnerable.

Your hand came up to gently caress his face, thumb grazing along his cheek as you murmured, "You’re drunk," your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smirk of his own. "I might be," he admitted, his voice a lazy drawl, "but I know you’ve thought about it."

He leaned back on the couch, eyes closed, that self-assured grin still tugging at his lips, and for a moment, you just watched him, the silence between you loaded with unspoken possibilities. You could feel the tension building, lingering in the space between you like an electric charge, neither of you moving, neither of you saying anything more. The only sound was the faint hum of the city outside, and the way he lay there—so casually, so confidently—only heightened the pull.

The knock at the door broke the tension, snapping you both back to reality. Flushing slightly, you got up to answer, grateful for the interruption yet already wondering what might have happened if it hadn’t come just then. When the pizza arrived, you both dove in, and as you took those first bites, the charged atmosphere seemed to ease. With each slice, the playful banter returned, and the lingering tension faded, replaced by the easy, familiar vibe that always felt natural between you.

By the time the food was gone, a warm, sleepy calm had settled in. You suggested getting ready for bed, and Cooper agreed with a lazy nod, stumbling off to the bathroom for a shower, hoping to shake off the haze of the night.

———

You were scrolling through your phone in bed when you heard the bathroom door creak open. Cooper stepped into the room, towel wrapped low around his waist, damp curls still clinging to his forehead. The soft glow of your dim bedroom lights cast shadows across his broad shoulders, drops of water gleaming on his skin as he moved. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him, caught off-guard by how good he looked, how real he felt right there in front of you.

His eyes met yours, and you saw the smirk tug at the corners of his lips, that familiar teasing glint in his gaze. "How do you feel?" you asked, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as you could, even though your heart was pounding in your chest.

"Better… sober," he responded with a grin, running a hand through his wet hair, his voice thick with that playful edge you’d come to know well.

He climbed into bed beside you, and the two of you settled into your usual comfortable routine, your bodies instinctively gravitating toward each other. But underneath the familiarity, a different kind of tension lingered—one you couldn’t shake. Every inch of your body was aware of his proximity, your senses heightened by the memory of what had nearly happened earlier. You figured that with how drunk he had been, Cooper had probably forgotten everything he’d said before—everything that had made the air between you so thick with unspoken words.

The silence stretched on, each second feeling longer than the last. But then, Cooper broke it abruptly, his voice low and purposeful.

"So… are we gonna act like you don’t want me to eat your pussy?" he said, smirking as he glanced at you, that familiar cocky confidence back in full force.

You shot up, utterly stunned by his boldness, your eyes wide as your mind scrambled to process what he’d just said. You opened your mouth but couldn’t find the words to respond.

Cooper, noticing your shock, leaned back against the pillows, not missing a beat. "This was bound to happen," he murmured, his tone shifting to something softer but still charged with intent. "I think you’re beautiful, I always have. And I’ve wanted to taste you for as long as I can remember. And at the very least, the very very least… you deserve to cum tonight. `You went through all the trouble of getting ready…"

His words were like a spark, setting off a flood of heat that rushed through you, igniting the tension you’d been holding back. You were still reeling from the bluntness of his words, but now you couldn’t deny what you’d been feeling—the way he made you want him, despite the years of friendship, despite the risk.

Without another word, Cooper moved closer, kissing you slowly at first, his lips pressing against yours with a soft, knowing pressure. Your body reacted instinctively, leaning into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his wet hair, pulling him deeper. He groaned softly into your mouth as his hands wandered, exploring the curve of your body, his touch making you shiver.

He pulled away just enough to murmur, "Get on top of me." The command was quiet but unmistakable, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, waiting.

You straddled him, the motion slow, deliberate, as you slid your legs over him, settling into his lap. The kiss resumed, deeper now, more frantic, as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the lines of your curves. One of his hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion. The cool air hit your skin as your lacy bra was exposed, and Cooper let out a low, appreciative hum.

Without missing a beat, his face dropped to your chest, his lips brushing over the curve of your breast before he kissed a trail down toward your cleavage. The sensation of his mouth on you, the warmth of his breath, sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He didn’t waste time, his hands following suit, his fingers sliding along the lace of your bra before he pulled it down with just enough urgency to make you gasp.

His lips found your nipple, and as he kissed and nipped at your skin, your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but arch into him. The combination of his soft kisses and the heat building between you made it clear that neither of you were going to be able to turn back.

He continued to work on her breast, he would switch between and whatever one he wasn’t pleasuring with his teeth and tongue, he would use his fingers to lightly twist and pinch. Every touch. His hands were gentle but firm, making your skin tingle with every touch. What might have gone unnoticed with anyone else felt completely different with Cooper—his touch sending waves of warmth through your body. The simplest graze of his fingers, the way his lips moved with such intent, seemed to awaken a reaction in you that left you utterly breathless, as if every part of you was attuned to Cooper and Cooper alone. The space between you both, once so familiar, now felt charged with something new, something undeniable.

Cooper wrapped one arm around you, gently pulling you closer as he shifted positions. With careful tenderness, he laid you back on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second of the closeness between you. He hovered over you for a moment, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead before he leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his mouth warm and insistent against yours.

His hand trailed down your side, his touch light yet electrifying, as if he could feel the way your body responded to every brush of his fingers. The heat between you seemed to grow, the air around you thick with anticipation. He kissed you with a quiet intensity, his lips moving against yours as if he were memorizing the feel of you, the way you fit perfectly together.

The pressure of his body against yours sent a jolt through you, his solid form pressing down on you in a way that made your heart race even faster. Every inch of his body seemed to fit perfectly against yours as if you were meant to be like this. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands struggling to meet due to the sheer width of his shoulders, the feeling of his body almost overwhelming in the best way possible.

He paused for a moment, hovering above you, his gaze intense and unwavering. His hazel eyes locked with yours, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down your spine. At that moment, you could see the way he took in every part of you as if memorizing the way you looked beneath him, your chest rising and falling with each breath. To him, you were beautiful, every curve, every inch of you a part of the image he had in his mind. The breathless, shaky exhale that escaped him only amplified the heat between you, the feeling of him exploring your body with his mouth still fresh on your skin.

There was a quiet tension in the air, a hunger that neither of you could ignore. The lust in your eyes matched the hunger in his, mutual desire pulsing between you both. It was as if the world outside of this moment no longer existed, leaving only the undeniable chemistry and the burning need to get closer, to feel more. Every small touch, every lingering kiss, heightened the anticipation, each of you wanting to give and receive more.

Cooper leaned in, his lips crashing against yours once again, this time with a deeper, more fervent passion. His kisses were insistent as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, where he lingered, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

His voice was low, husky with desire, as he whispered in your ear, the words almost a command, "Take them off." The tone was grumbly, yet full of something far more intimate—something that made your pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the words, but the way he said them, as if he knew exactly how to break down the walls between you.

As his lips worked their way down to your neck, nibbling softly, the sensation of his teeth grazing your skin left you breathless. His hands, now urgent, explored your body as though he couldn’t get enough of you. The way he touched you, moved over your skin, ignited a fire deep within. Every caress, every brush of his fingers, made you feel like you were losing control, unraveling under his touch.

You could feel the tension building between you, the weight of your friendship slowly being replaced by something far more electric, far more heated. The way his hands moved, quickly but with purpose, made you feel as if you were being pulled apart, piece by piece. You could no longer hold onto the rational thoughts in your head; everything else faded, and all that mattered was the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his body against yours.

Cooper’s kisses moved lower, his lips soft against your skin, each one sending small waves of heat through your body. His touch was gentle but deliberate, and you could feel your heart race in time with every movement. You could barely catch your breath, each kiss pushing you closer to the edge of something unspoken between you two.

As he hovered just above you, you could see the spark in his eyes, a playful yet serious glint. His gaze met yours, intense, but there was a warmth in it too—a familiarity, a promise that things would change, that they already had. His lips parted slightly as he asked, his voice smooth yet filled with a hint of something darker, “Are you ready for me, gorgeous?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your body trembling with anticipation. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only a nod, your head moving with the rhythm of your pounding heart. The weight of the moment felt heavy, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. It was a feeling that had been building for a long time, a connection that was deepening in ways neither of you had anticipated.

He smiled, and the tension between you only seemed to grow as he moved lower, his kisses now tracing the outline of your thighs. You bit your lip, the sensation both teasing and maddening as he drew closer and then pulled away, leaving you wanting more. The moment stretched out, thick with longing. You could feel every inch of him—the warmth of his breath, the gentle pressure of his lips—as he moved closer but never quite touched where you wanted him.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you found yourself instinctively reaching for him, your hands threading through his damp hair. Without thinking, you guided him toward you, a silent plea for him to take that final step. He let out a low chuckle, a sound that vibrated through your chest, and followed your direction, his body responding to yours with the same quiet urgency.

His kisses trailed down your body, leaving a path of warmth as he moved lower, each soft smooch against your skin sending shivers just below the surface. You felt the tension slip from your body, your breath quickening as he took his time, savoring each touch, each kiss. When you finally pulled off your panties, he slid down further, aligning himself with your most sensitive spot.

The first swipe of his tongue over your folds released a moan you hadn’t meant to hold back, all the built-up anticipation unraveling in that one, perfect stroke. Cooper’s tongue moved with a skillful intent, each motion precise and unhurried, as if he was mapping every inch of you. His mouth wrapped around your clit with a tender urgency, his lips creating a gentle, pulsing suction that made your body arch toward him, every movement filled with both calm and passion. Each moan you let out only spurred him on, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as he continued, building you up slowly, expertly, until the tension inside you swelled to its peak.

Before you knew it, your body was moving instinctively, grinding in perfect rhythm with Cooper’s touch, amplifying every sensation that pulsed through you. Your breaths came in short gasps, your moans barely contained as he held you firmly, guiding you to where he wanted you. "Fuck… Cooper, that feels so good," you breathed, fingers threading through his hair, gripping tightly as he continued. Without pausing, he slid his fingers into you, each movement deliberate and deeply satisfying, his mouth still working at your heat, pushing you toward the edge.

Cooper’s hand found its way to your mouth, the same finger he just used to get you closer to your climax, he put on the edge of your lips. He didn’t even have to ask before you took the finger into your mouth and started sucking. His gaze flicked up briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he murmured, “That’s a good girl,” the words rolling off his tongue, rough and warm.

Your breaths turned into desperate, shallow gasps, your body arching as Cooper’s grip tightened, holding you exactly where he wanted. You clutched his hair, then your breasts, each touch adding to the intensity building deep within. "Don’t stop, Cooper—right there," you pleaded, voice trembling as he focused right on that sensitive spot, his mouth and fingers working together in perfect rhythm.

The heat built into a fiery pulse radiating through you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. “Cooper, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, the words spilling out as he gave a low, approving “mhm,” the vibration adding to your pleasure as he continued relentlessly. He reached out, his strong hands clasping yours, grounding you even as your body surrendered completely.

The climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a rush of intense sensation. Your thighs clenched around him as your back arched, head thrown back as you cried out his name. Cooper stayed right with you, his mouth and fingers maintaining their pace as you unraveled, every nerve electrified, holding onto his hands as the release poured over you, leaving you breathless and utterly spent.

Cooper pulled back and kissed up your torso, to your neck and then eventually planting a passionate final kiss on your lips. He laid next to you on his side while you were still flat on your back trying to catch your breath. He let out a low laugh watching you trying to gather yourself, “I told you I could get you there”.

#nasty remix #cooper koch #cooper koch fanfic #cooper koch smut #cooper koch fic #cooper koch x reader #cooper koch x y/n

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drei-mrssvechii · 2 days ago

Text

cookie time! | andrei svechnikov

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pairing: dad!andrei svechnikov x reader

warnings: mentions of andrei's injury, the canes doing not so well, kids.

word count: 690 words

a/n: ok so i wrote this around last year when svech got injured for playoffs and i'm just posting it now lololol. but anyway! i felt like this was such a cute concept and needed to write it, so here it is! hope you enjoy it, i'm always open to feedback, requests, etc, etc.

“how much time till you can return to skating, dada?” your little girl, sofiya, asked as andrei tucked her into bed.

“that’s quite a long time, sunshine,” he replied. she pouted; there was nothing she loved more than going to games and supporting her daddy in her little svech jersey.

though andrei’s injury kept him off the ice, there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him from visiting the rink, and sofiya would gladly follow him everywhere—she was such a daddy’s girl, after all.

so you’d still attend some games, but ever since svech was out, losing had become a constant, and frustration was clearly building within the team. especially for andrei, who couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being able to play.

the mood wasn’t the best, but when it came to sofiya, he would always put on a smile. it wasn’t often that they got to spend so much time together, so she loved having him home to attend her tea parties, tuck her into bed, and take her to school. as much as she adored it, though, she knew her dad missed being on the ice, and sofiya didn’t like seeing him hurt and sad. so one morning, just as she heard andrei leaving for therapy, she went downstairs with what she thought was the perfect plan to cheer him up.

you were in the kitchen, tidying up from breakfast. it was still early, so you planned to get a bit more sleep, assuming your little girl wouldn’t be up until later—or so you thought, until you heard her quick footsteps on the stairs.

“morning, love. what are you doing up so early?” you asked, watching as she entered the kitchen and grabbed a stool to stand next to you.

“can we make chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

“cookies? it’s too early for those, baby,” you said, though knowing chocolate chip cookies were her all-time favorite.

“i know, mom, but cookies make me happy. i bet they’ll make dada happy, too!” she said, explaining her plan with such conviction that you couldn’t help but smile.

it was so sweet how she was thinking of ways to cheer up her dad. so, you quickly gave in, gathered all the ingredients, and handed her a small apron.

she started by cracking the eggs (with a tiny bit of shell making it into the bowl), then you helped her measure the flour, and sofiya poured in what seemed like way too many chocolate chips. the kitchen turned into a delightful mess: flour dusted the counters, little chocolate fingerprints decorated the cabinets, and sofiya sneaked a few chocolate chips every chance she got.

“daddy’s gonna love this!” she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

but just as the first batch of cookies went into the oven, you heard the door open earlier than expected, and sofiya’s face fell.

“oh no, mom! he’s here too soon. it’s all ruined,” she muttered, disappointed.

andrei stepped into the kitchen, chuckling as he took in the scene—flour everywhere, cookie dough on the counters, and sofiya’s pouty face.

“sunshine, what’s all this?” he asked, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

“i wanted to surprise you,” she murmured. “make you happy like you make me happy.”

his face brightened, and he pulled her into a warm hug. “well, you sure did, kiddo. this is the best surprise i could ask for.”

sofiya smiled brightly, inviting him to join her. together, the three of you continued baking. as andrei helped sofiya clean up the counters, you caught his eye, sharing a warm smile. moments like these were rare but so precious.

as the cookies finished baking, andrei had an idea. “hey, sweetheart, how about we take these cookies to practice and share them with the team?”

sofiya’s eyes lit up in excitement. “yes! they’ll be so happy. i miss uncle jarvy,” she said with a little pout.

“he sure misses you too, baby.”

and with a plate of freshly baked cookies in hand, the three of you headed to the rink, just as morning skate wrapped up.

taglist: @sydnikov @cammie1634 @honeygarfield @svechnikov3737 @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @barzyandhughesbaby @tinyhockey @boeswhore @owenpowerstapejob @kailyn-writes @stars-canucks @ssebastianaho @beauvertime @barzyblogbabe @hockey-racing-fubol @1-800-iluvhockey | join here!

#carolina hurricanes #andrei svechnikov #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl canes #fic #imagine #nhl fluff #nhl blurb #hockey fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #nhl writing #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction

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librababe99 · 2 days ago

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Hello! I hope you a good day ❤️

Could you write something for Bruce Wayne × Reader along the lines of "I like strawberries" *the next day the kitchen is filled with strawberries*.

Like Bruce just randomly drops you gifts no note, no sign, he doesn't even give them directly to you

Title: A Berry Sweet Surprise

Tags: Fluff, Bruce Wayne (slight ooc?), Female Reader, established relationships, Love languages Summary: Bruce always manages to express his love in quiet, unexpected ways, showing that sometimes the grandest gestures are the ones whispered in the smallest details. Word Count: 811 words A/N: Alright I’ve been loving fluff lately...and I think this was such a cute idea Anon🥰 I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it.

The Manor as unusually quiet, the kind of peacefulness that seemed rare in a place that held so much history and chaos within its walls. Bruce and you found yourselves in the kitchen, enjoying the silence, sharing a soft moment amid a busy life. Alfred had recently brought a basket of fresh strawberries, their deep red hues and juicy scent filling the air.

After popping one in your mouth, you sighed, almost blissfully. “Gosh, I just love strawberries.”

Bruce looked over at you with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll make a note of that.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you replied, still savoring the sweet burst of flavor on your tongue. “They’re just… perfect, you know?”

Bruce merely hummed in agreement, his eyes lingering on you a little longer, as if to tuck the information away. It was the kind of quiet, thoughtful moment that didn’t need words — just understanding.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you wandered downstairs, barely awake but ready for the comfort of a strong cup of coffee. The familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen, courtesy of Alfred, who knew you and Bruce far too well by now.

But as you stepped into the kitchen, you stopped, your sleepy eyes snapping wide open. The counter wasn’t just home to your usual morning coffee. Instead, it was overflowing with… fruit. Not just any fruit, either — bouquets upon bouquets, bursting with fresh, plump strawberries. Strawberries in every shade of crimson, gleaming under the kitchen lights like clusters of rubies. They were arranged in decorative baskets, in artfully crafted bouquets, and mixed with other fruits like pineapple stars and melon blossoms, but overwhelmingly, gloriously… strawberries.

Your jaw dropped as you took in the sight. There wasn’t a note, no card explaining this small marvel of fruit, but you didn’t need one. A small laugh bubbled out of you, and you shook your head, pressing a hand to your mouth in delight.

Only one person would remember something so specific, so simple, and take it to heart like this.

“Oh, my,” came Alfred’s voice, his ever-present calm layered with a touch of amused surprise as he entered the kitchen. “I daresay he may have gotten a bit carried away this time.”

You chuckled, glancing at Alfred, who had already set a plate and coffee cup for you. “I love it,” you replied, already reaching for one of the strawberries. “And you know, sometimes I wonder if he’s trying to make you look bad with these grand gestures,” you teased.

Alfred, ever the gentleman, offered a modest smile. “As long as it brings a smile to your face, I won’t be taking offense.”

You took a seat, selecting one of the strawberries from the nearest bouquet, savoring its sweetness with a fond look. The taste seemed even sweeter, knowing exactly whose idea this was and how well he’d listened. It was the kind of thoughtfulness that felt more intimate than anything grand.

As if on cue, your phone vibrated, and you glanced down to see a message from Bruce.

“Did you get my gift?”

“I did. More than enough strawberries to last me a lifetime, you know.”

“Is that a complaint?”

You laughed softly, texting back, “Not at all. Thank you, Bruce. Really. I love it.”

There was a slight pause before he responded, almost as though he were carefully crafting his reply. “I’m glad. I like finding ways to spoil you.”

You grinned at the message, feeling your heart swell. For all the sternness and stoicism Bruce often wore like armor, this was a glimpse of the man beneath, thoughtful and deeply caring in his own way.

“You’re the sweetest.”

You could almost picture his smirk when he replied, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Alfred cleared his throat, pretending not to notice the faint blush that had crept onto your cheeks. “Would you like me to set aside a selection of these strawberries for later, or should I prepare them all now?”

With a warm laugh, you glanced over at the mountain of strawberries, feeling happier than you’d expected over something so simple. “Let’s save a few. I think Bruce deserves some of these later too.”

Alfred smiled knowingly. “Very well, miss. I’ll prepare the finest of the bunch.”

You nodded, popping another strawberry into your mouth as you thought about Bruce’s little surprise. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but in its simplicity, it was perfect. It was the way he showed you love — quiet, thoughtful, never asking for anything in return. And that, you knew, was worth more than anything money could buy.

As you finished your breakfast, you found yourself already anticipating the next time you’d see him, wondering how to show him your own love in return — perhaps in ways just as subtle, just as sweet.

#anon request #answered asks #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman imagine #dc fandom #dc fanfic #fluff oneshot #established relationship #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne x you

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itacats · 3 days ago

Text

A Moment of Refuge

FT: Simon Riley x reader

Warnings: Mentions of political stress, feeling overlooked/ignored, please let me know if anything else should be here! 🙏

A/N: This is an extra little comfort fic inspired by @the-palelady ‘s post here. Thank you for your permission on writing this💙

In the dim glow of the rainy Manchester evening, shadows played against the walls, casting the small room in a hazy, dreamlike quality. You sat huddled in a corner of your living room, knees pulled to your chest, a thin blanket draped over your shoulders. The walls, which once felt like a comforting enclosure, seemed to close in, and the muted beige tones took on a slightly oppressive hue in the darkened light. Raindrops traced jagged, steady paths down the window, the world outside a hazy blur of streetlamps and reflected puddles. But here, it was quieter, almost haunting.

Your phone buzzed from the coffee table nearby, its screen lighting up with messages from family. You’d already lost count of the pings, each one a sharp reminder of the political arguments that seemed to stretch into infinity. You felt the familiar pang of frustration and sadness lodge itself firmly in your chest. Every message echoed a different version of the same misunderstanding, each ping adding weight to the gnawing feeling of loneliness that had built up over the last few months. This wasn’t just family discord; it was the foundation of who you were being shaken in the face of their relentless opinions and expectations.

The outside world felt chaotic, a swirling storm of opinions, arguments, and judgments that thundered against your own beliefs and values. You sighed deeply, the sound wavering as it left your lips, leaning your head back against the couch, its plush fabric warm but unable to shield you from the storm raging within. The weight of the evening pressed down, and you found yourself wondering how long you could keep pushing forward.

The silence was broken by a creak at the door, and you glanced up, heart leaping in recognition. Simon stepped into the room, his form silhouetted against the dim light filtering in from the hallway. He was a familiar presence, steady and unshakeable, carrying with him an aura of calm even as rain pattered against his coat. As he pulled off his mask, revealing the sharp lines softened by genuine concern, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you.

"Hey, love," he murmured, voice low and rich, tinged with an almost unspoken empathy. He moved toward you, his movements slow, as if giving you time to accept his presence. “You alright?” The words were simple, but the weight behind them—the invitation to share, to be understood—felt monumental.

You managed a small smile, though the heaviness in your chest remained. “Just...family stuff. They don’t get it. They never do.”

Simon nodded, a faint flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. He knew all too well the feeling of being misunderstood, isolated even among those who were supposed to know you best. Without another word, he extended his arms, inviting you into the safety of his embrace. You barely hesitated, rising to meet him, feeling the warm solidity of his body as he wrapped you in his arms, the scent of rain and faint traces of his cologne comforting you.

Pressing your cheek against his chest, you felt the gentle, steady thump of his heartbeat, an anchor in the sea of uncertainty that swirled within you. Simon, who had faced down the darkest shadows of humanity, could so effortlessly make you feel secure with a single hug. His hand found its way to your hair, fingers moving slowly, tenderly, as he combed through the strands, and for the first time that night, you felt yourself begin to relax.

“You know,” he began, voice a low murmur that was more felt than heard, “it’s alright to feel like this. People don’t always see past their own beliefs, but that doesn’t mean yours aren’t valid. You’re not alone, even if it feels like it sometimes.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words settling deep within you, loosening the tight knot of tension just a bit. “I just feel like I’m talking to walls. Like I’m shouting, and they’re not even listening,” you admitted, voice muffled as you clung to him.

His arms tightened around you, and you could feel the strength in his embrace, as if by holding you close he could physically shield you from the hurt. “You don’t have to shout,” he murmured, the softness of his voice carrying a reassurance that bordered on reverence. “Speak your truth softly. Those who care will hear it. And if they don’t… that’s their loss, not yours.”

For a moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable, yet cherished. Simon’s words wrapped around you like a blanket, filling you with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed. He continued to stroke your hair, his fingers gentle and rhythmic, each stroke banishing a bit more of the anxiety coiled within you. “We all carry our battles,” he whispered. “You don’t have to face yours alone. Lean on me; I’ll shoulder it with you.”

As he spoke, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, the tenderness of the gesture an unspoken promise. The rain continued to fall in steady sheets outside, drumming against the windows, but in his arms, the world outside faded. Here, there was only the comfort of his touch, the quiet sanctuary he offered you without question or hesitation.

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly, the tension that had gripped your chest for hours finally loosening. “Thank you, Simon,” you whispered, voice barely audible, the gratitude heavy in each word. “I don’t know how you do it. You always seem to know what to say.”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest, a warm, comforting sound. “It’s easy when it’s you, love. You deserve to be heard, to feel safe. Let me give you that.”

Time slipped away as the rain outside softened, and together you found solace in quiet moments, in the warmth of shared laughter, and the ease of conversation that required no masks, no walls. He told you stories of old missions, slipping in bits of dry humor that drew reluctant smiles from you, reminding you that even in the dark, there was room for joy.

In his embrace, the tension eased, and you felt the beginnings of calm, the storm within quieting. You realized that in the face of the `world’s chaos, the misunderstandings, and the noise, you had found a rare peace. Here, in Simon’s presence, you could be yourself—vulnerable, weary, hopeful. And as the rain finally began to taper off, the last droplets tracing lazy lines down the window, you felt yourself let go, knowing that no matter what lay outside, you had found a sanctuary.

With Simon by your side, you knew that whatever storms came, you could weather them.

Remember all you lovelies, despite all the chaos that’s swirling around us at the moment, we will survive. We have each other and we will outlive the darkness that looms ahead.

Stay safe, stay strong.

Jay💙

#bt extra #call of duty #simon ghost riley #fanfic #cod fic #cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #gn reader #stay strong #we will outlive them

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straightontllmorning · 1 day ago

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can i say (as a bi woman) that it genuinely bothers me that like... so many ppl are like 'its not biphobic for a bisexual to have casual sex' when i don't think anyone has ever said THAT is the issue? i don't care what bisexuals do in real life. if they wanna have safe and consensual casual sex, go right ahead, idc! it's not for me but as long as i'm also being respected in my decision, idc what other people do. it just baffles me because buck in season one was talking about how he was a sex addict and how he didn't want to ruin things with abby by rushing into sex too fast because he genuinely liked her and that was like... kind of a huge part of his character? is that he DIDN'T really like the casual sex so much but actually wanted a real relationship? so why is oliver begging to have buck sleep around again when his character like... wanted more than just sex??? i don't mind character regression but it just feels like bad writing to retread that plot again.

also idc what other people say about thinking OS wasn't biphobic in his remarks. the guy dropped the ball hardcore. he could have easily said "i think buck can continue to casually explore his sexuality with other men and women now, he's still bisexual even if he's single" and it wouldn't have felt so... idk. fetishize-y to me. i'm just tired of bisexuality in fiction always being linked to promiscuity. real bisexuals can do whatever they want. but bisexuals in fiction are held to a different standard for a reason. what else should i expect from a ryan murphy show tho considering brittany on glee never called herself bisexual (bi-lingual, bi-corn) and she was portrayed the 'stupid slutty cheerleader' stereotype. i was just hoping for something different ig :(

it just makes me mad because... they didn't have to break up buck and tommy Like That. tommy could have easily had to move away and he and buck could have broken things off mutually as a result. idk sorry for ranting a bit in ur asks im just so miffed over this and over people speaking over bisexuals expressing their thoughts and concerns toward the biphobia that's going on rn :(

Sorry it took me so long to answer you, but please rant away! Honestly I agree with everything you've said. And unfortunately this really does prove that yeah, this is a Ryan Murphy show and it's par for the fucking course. I was gleek and that always bothered me too that Britney would never say it (and most of her characterization in general was just awful)

I wish Oliver had said something different, I wish he hadn't worded it that way. And again, people can have their opinions but it just feels so gross given how the show decided to do this.

They could've had bucktommy break up in any other way for any other reason. They brought up the Abby plot, they could've used that as the hurdle. They could have had them talk about wanting different things in a relationship. Literally anything that wasn't Tommy basically telling Buck it's over because he's not enough of a stereotype. Because bisexuals don't know what they want. Clearly.

It's very infuriating and I'm so sorry that yet another piece of media treated bisexual people like fucking shit.

And it's really fucking infuriating that people who aren't bisexual are defending Oliver over his comment. Again, have your different opinions but don't speak over people that are bi and already have to deal with biphobia in our shitty society

This show went about it all in an awful way, and I'm really sad that we were all tricked into believing they'd handle it better

#911 discourse #bucktommy

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in1-nutshell · 1 day ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could write where Sari asks NightLight how Ratchet and her became Conjunx endura?

This story caught the other's off guard for sure.

Hope you enjoy!

How did Nightlight and Ratchet get bonded?

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

TFA

The questioned started after movie night.

Nightlight had finished her evening patrols earlier than expected and the others had been preparing for Movie Night.

Nightlight had nothing better to do for the rest of the evening and decided to join in.

This made Sari very happy, seeing as Nightlight didn’t join in many nightly activities that were around patrolling or work.

The movie ended with its main protagonist getting married and riding off into the sunset.

Sari looked up to Nightlight, who was sitting next to Ratchet. Sari: “Nightlight, how did you and Ratchet get married?” All the bots are caught off guard by the question. Bumblebee: “Now that she mentions it, I don’t think either of you have told us.” Ratchet: “There is a lot you young bots don’t know.” Bulkhead: “Did you have a spring wedding?” Bumblebee: “Or maybe something like in a church?” Prowl: “…Who asked who?” Nightlight: “You do realize we did Conjunx rites? We didn’t do a ‘wedding’ like the humans do.” Sari: “Oh right, aliens… but then how did you get… umm…” Optimus: “Bonded?” Sari: “Yeah! Robo married!” Ratchet looks over at Nightlight and gives her a knowing smirk. Ratchet: “Yes Nightlight, how did we get ‘robo married’?” Nightlight looks uncharacteristically flustered and tries to make a break for it before Ratchet traps her on the couch using his magnets. Nightlight: “Ratchet!” Optimus: “Okay now I want to know.” Bumblebee and Sari: “Tell us!” Nightlight sighs in defeat. Nightlight: “All right, all right… sit down everyone… it’s a bit of a long story…”

…

It took place during the final days of the war.

The pair had been ‘dating’, if you could call it, for a while.

A couple hundred years give or take, but it felt a bit shorter given each other’s professions took a lot of time and dedication to.

It was a miracle for a field tech and detective could even find time for each other that wasn’t based on screen calls or rare mission briefs.

Nightlight’s most recent case had led her to the same base camp Ratchet was in.

It would soon come to her attention that the base would be under siege in a matter of days.

Normally a quick call would have sufficed in warning the others and getting the relief team on their way… if the base wasn’t under a tech blackout.

Nightlight made sure to call in the relief team for the base before racing to get to the base herself.

Ratchet was surprised to see Nightlight in the base looking so disheveled and panicked.

After briefly explaining the situation, the two helped getting the injured and other personnel bots out of the base before the siege started.

Too bad some Con scouts had entered earlier.

It was up to Nightlight, Ratchet and a few other bots to hold everything down before the others would arrive.

The small group was doing okay for the most part.

Ratchet spots a Con sneaking behind Nightlight. Ratchet: “Nightlight! Get down!” Nightlight immediately drops to the ground as Ratchet uses his magnets to throw the Con. Ratchet looks down at her worried as she hadn’t gotten up yet. She just stared at him. Ratchet quickly pulled her up, looking over for any injuries. Nightlight grabs his free servo. Nightlight: “Be my Conjunx?” Ratchet stops, completely caught off guard by the question. Nightlight punches a Con who was trying to attack them both. Nightlight: “We’re busy!” Ratchet shakes his helm in disbelief. Ratchet: “You decided that NOW of all times is the right time!?” Ratchet and Nightlight punch a couple more Con’s. Nightlight: “I am not going to go out without asking that.” Ratchet: “No one’s going out!” Nightlight: “Just being realistic—HEAD’S UP!” Nightlight drop kicks another Con. Nightlight: “I made my decision Ratchet… would you do me the honor of being my Conjunx for whatever time we have left?” Ratchet blinks before turning his helm to a nearby bot. Ratchet: “Kup!” Kup: “Yeah!” Ratchet: “You’re our witness for the Conjunx rites!” Kup does a double looking at Nightlight and Ratchet ducking from the blaster fire. Kup: “Now?!” Nightlight: “Please Kup?!” Kup: “… Sod it… Say your things! I’ll cover for ya!”

Both bots are fighting and yelling out their rites, gifting each other enemy blasters at one point.

Now officially Conjunx’s… just as the relief team came.

Everyone had survived, hurt and wounded heavily, but alive.

Many bots where surprised to hear that the sour field tech and detective had the bearings to do their Conjunx rites in the midst of battling the enemy.

The pair didn’t care too much about what the other younger bots were whispering about.

Mainly because Ratchet had a bit of a lovesick smile while Nightlight had tucked her helm on the side of his helm.

Both their servos tightly wound together.

They had lived for another day.

It would take them a few hours to get back to the capital for better care on their injuries.

It would also be a few days later before the war would have officially ended.

…

The team’s mouths were on the floor.

They were not expecting that!

Ratchet and Nightlight earned some respect on their names.

Optimus and Prowl are just surprised when they had made the rites.

It was completely dangerous and risky for Nightlight to make such a decision.

Though to put it in perspective, if she was that scared to risk doing one last thing with Ratchet before she went off line…

The two bots just hoped that they never had to see Nightlight make such risky decisions like that on Earth.

Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Sari are just floored with this story.

They were expecting something like a sappy love confession or them casually wanting to do it to lower their taxes.

This story gave the married couple a new light for the young ones to look at.

Optimus: “But there is one thing I don’t understand. Nightlight looked very flustered when mentioning about the story, why?” Bulkhead: “Maybe because she’s just embarrassed.” Ratchet chuckles. Ratchet: “No, its what happened shortly after we bonded.” Nightlight hid her face in her servos. Nightlight: “Ratchet please…” Ratchet: “The kids are going to keep on asking.” Nightlight graoned: “…Proceed…” Ratchet chuckled a bit rubbing circles on her back. Ratchet: “She apparently had a whole series of plans to ask me to be her Conjunx. All colored coded, alphabetized and in most likely to least likely to fail.” Sari: “Can we see it?” Nightlight jumps up and is out the door. Ratchet chuckles a bit. Ratchet: “Give her a couple of days, a few puppy dog eyes and maybe you get to see Plan Yellow C.” Prowl: “What is that one?” Ratchet: “Lets just say it involved several jetpacks, a few favors and Megatron’s sword.” Optimus: “Megatron’s what!”

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader #nightlight #nightlight x ratchet

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